My childhood days were as good as a mystery novel. They flew as fast as a humming bird. Those days of innocence and carefree life are now merely an album of colorful pictures in my mind.
Those were the days when I could have my way by crying or lifting my tiny fore finger. I remember being so happy and running around the house humming a tune. I spent the evenings at my friend's house. In the afternoons， when mom was asleep I used to play with the black ants， beetles and other creatures that visited the front yard of my house.
On rainy evenings I cuddled to my mother and sipped hot tea that she occasionally gave me. Pleasant evenings were time for play. On windy evenings I flew kites. Even birds couldn't have made the sky more beautiful！
On lazy afternoons grandma told me stories. Her stories were peppered with demons， devils and giants. I would spend sleepless nights keeping a good lookout for them.
I loved to get wet in rain. After the rains paper boats filled the puddles. We held competitions as to who could splash out most water from the storm water ditches that ran outside the house.
I am an 'adult' now. Mother has no patience when I run around， or make paper boats or play in the rain. I have to listen to a lecture. Its lasts for an hour after which I return to my bedroom my ears burning red. That's exactly why I call my childhood “The pot of honey now empty”。